


Hold On, My Precious

by Vampiricalthorns



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Near Death, Violence, War, although this is probably not what you'd associate with a typical happy holiday huh, happy holidays/merry late christmas/merry early orthodox xmas, here's angst, oh and, you wanted angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiricalthorns/pseuds/Vampiricalthorns
Summary: “Roy,” Ed gurgles. His voice is raspy and his voice sounds wet and Roy knows it’s because his lungs are filling with blood. “I’m— I just— I tried to—”“I know, my dear, I know,” Roy whispers, and he’s crying too now, tears rolling down his cheeks and making the graze on his cheek sting. It doesn’t matter.Nothing matters right now. Nothing, apart from Ed.“You were just trying to protect the people you love.”//Secret Santa 2019: gift for moxnix
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 173
Collections: FMA Gift Exchange 2019





	Hold On, My Precious

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, moxnix, this is sad.
> 
> I started this late last night after scrapping my original draft which was completely different (4,8k long mess of my classic narrative bullshit) because I got so indescribably stuck and angry at how nothing was working out my way.
> 
> So here we are. I didn't intend for it to be this angsty, but then I reread the request and, I quote: "Love soulmate AUs, coffeeshop AUs, and anything with insane amounts of angst- check my IG for more info on that lol." Didn't get around to the coffeeshop AU, as I couldn't possibly fit it into here, but here we are.
> 
> 2000 words of anguish. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, this was vaguely inspired by your instagram post from August 31st 2019 (the one where Ed is laying covered in blood)

They’ve never tested to see if they’re soulmates.

They never pricked their fingers and let two drops of blood mix together and waited in anxious silence to see if the dark, shiny red would turn a brilliant gold.

Soulmates aren’t all that uncommon in Amestris. Everybody knows they exist, that everyone has at least one soulmate— and most find theirs.

Whether it’s romantic or platonic, or even someone finding both or even several of each, it’s just another part of Amestrian society.

Blood is the special thing. It has healing power in the right context. 

Friends— soulmate friends, that is —can heal smaller wounds, like papercuts, or even in the right context, larger gashes caused by falls. Small things that can easily be covered with a bandage. A dark ultramarine with the ability to knit tissue back together.

Maes had done that a lot for him when they were in the academy, back when Roy had read a lot and written more and  _ always  _ gotten paper cuts. He had done the same the time Maes had accidentally caught his leg on one of the library bookshelves and fallen, only to smash his glasses and gets a dozen small cuts on his face. 

Siblings can be soulmates too. It doesn’t always happen, but sometimes.

It’s not a surprise to anyone that Edward and Alphonse are soulmates. They help each other out all the time with the smallest things, and sometimes, Roy thinks that they might just be able to read each other’s minds. 

Sibling soulmates can heal greater injuries than the platonic soulmates, and in cases where the situation calls for it, even heal broken bones or punctured lungs. Never anything life-saving, however. Never something like breathing life back into a barely-alive person.

It had been mostly Ed who had kept Al alive after the Promised Day, feeding him energy through their bond, turning their combined blood a glittering silver and taking some of the pain away from Al.

Ed had starved at a perfectly healthy weight, just so that Al could heal easier. 

The sight of them, curled up in bed together, IVs sticking out of three arms, both of them breathing shallowly, half-way unconscious, had made Roy’s heart ache for their suffering, and aching for the loss of Maes. 

Romantic soulmates are the rarest, oddly enough. 

While every person  _ has  _ one, the chance of finding them is almost zero. That’s why few couples even check, because the disappointment of thinking that the person you want to spend the rest of your life with is your soulmate before it turns out they aren’t is enough to crush the fragile bonds of a relationship. 

That’s why he and Ed had made the decision  _ not  _ to check. 

They’re better off that way— better off just not knowing because while they’d both survive not being soulmates (hell, did either of them even  _ deserve _ to have soulmates?), it seemed wrong to even consider the possibility of being or not being. 

Romantic soulmates can bring each other back from the brink of death, heal bones, repair fully destroyed organs— breathe life back into a barely fighting body. 

Every now and then, he wishes Gracia had been there to save Maes.

* * *

War is a terrifying, horrible thing. 

Fighting is dangerous. Someone is always bound to get hurt. 

He had once saved Riza on the battlefield, back in Ishval— the same day that Roy had learnt he didn’t have one, but two platonic soulmates, two people with the ability to turn their mixed blood a brilliant, dark ultramarine blue. 

Creta.

Only five measly years after they defeated Father, a mere twelve since the Ishvalan war, and here Roy is, on the battlefield, on the border between Amestris and Creta, defending his home country yet again. 

The similarities between the two are startling.

A complete bloodbath, seemingly without an end. 

Alchemists, with an elegant penstroke in dark, royal blue, being sent to the fronts to drive back the enemies.

It’s all the same.

Only now, the love of his life is out here with him, going against all morals and principles he might have had before, killing in the name of his country because he can’t afford  _ not  _ to.

Roy stands up from where he’s been crouching— taking a moment to allow himself to breathe, even though he doesn’t  _ want  _ to. He looks around for any sight of matted blond, for Edward or Alphonse or Riza, all of whom had been with him only a short while ago when they’d been ordered back onto the field for another round of worthless death and suffering. Riza’s probably found a place from where she can safely pluck the ranks of their enemies one by one with a single fatal shot to the forehead. 

The air is acrid, weighted down by the smell of heat, blood and gunshot smoke.

It’s been four months. One-hundred-and-twenty-two days since the order for State Alchemists to be sent to the front lines to support the rest of the Amestrian military was signed. 

Roy’s not even sure if it’s been of any benefit. 

There never seems to be an end to war when you’re standing with both feet in pits of mud and someone else’s blood caking your uniform trousers. 

He’s one of the generals— it doesn’t really make sense for him to be out here, fighting for his life, fighting for his country along with foot soldiers and the other state alchemists that hold the rank of ‘major’ in name only. 

But right now, in the military’s eyes, he’s the Flame Alchemists, still one of the strongest in the country in terms of alchemical power, only really beaten by the Elric brothers. No one in Amestris is stronger, or more resourceful or wields alchemy like it’s written into their very DNA as the Elric brothers do.

Edward. 

Roy tries to look for him again when the sudden  _ woosh  _ of something going past his face surprises him, pain exploding across his cheek a moment later. It takes him a fraction of a second to realise that he’s being  _ shot at _ , that a  _ bullet  _ has grazed his cheek, and another one before his body gets the message that he should return fire. 

And he does. Literally.

He doesn’t need to look to know that he’s hit his target. The fresh smell of burnt flesh tells him all he needs to know. 

He’s killed enough people in cold blood the past hundred and twenty-two days to know that he doesn’t miss when he aims to kill, when he’s intent on  _ living  _ and  _ surviving  _ and getting through this endless bloodshed.

“ _ Roy _ !”

The scream is so panicked Roy almost gets whiplash as his head snaps towards the left. He spots two mops of blond hair— one a shade more golden than the other. 

“Roy!” Alphonse screams again, and this time the voice is less panicked and more choked with sobs. “Roy!”

Roy’s heart jumps, skips a beat before pounding uncontrollably because he’s just realised that between where Riza’s busy trying to shelter Al by sniping down enemies and Alphonse, a body wearing the military-issued uniform, complete with the white lab-like coat that distinguishes the role as a state alchemist and—

_ No _ .

He runs, doesn’t even care that the other side might open fire on him because he’s got tunnel vision and oh lord, this can’t be happening, this must just be a nightmare that he’ll wake up from in a minute and realise is fake before being able to curl into Ed’s warmth again, able to slip off into better dreams again and—

Roy falls to his knees in front of Ed’s body, seeing the bloodstain slowly spread through the blue wool of the jacket, seeping into the white coat.

“Edward,” Roy breathes out, for a moment relieved that he’s found Ed again, although— although he’s dying. He’s  _ dying _ . “ _ Edward! _ ”

He stares up at Alphonse, who’s sitting next to his brother with tear tracks creating jagged paths in his dust-covered face. “What happened, Alphonse? Please, tell me what happened to Edward.”

“He was c-covering us,” Alphonse says, voice broken and raspy, and Roy doesn’t think he’s ever seen Al this distressed, unable to clearly form the words he so desperately wants to speak. “W-We didn’t realise we were being s-shot at before he— before he went down. Riza— she got the person we think did it but— but—”

He doesn’t manage to continue after that, but Roy’s got the message. In the attempt to save his brother and his boyfriend’s soulmate, Ed’s been shot and he’s bleeding out and  _ dying  _ on the cold, hard ground. 

“Oh Edward,” Roy says, pulling his boyfriend halfway into his lap as Alphonse claps and slams his hands to the ground, no doubt sending a message through the ground that will form on one of the surfaces of the medical tent. They need  _ someone—  _ even though—  _ even though  _ Ed probably won’t make it, they have to try. They have to try to get through this with everything they can.

“Roy,” Ed gurgles. His voice is raspy and his voice sounds wet and Roy knows it’s because his lungs are filling with blood. “I’m— I just— I tried to—”

“I know, my dear, I know,” Roy whispers, and he’s crying too now, tears rolling down his cheeks and making the graze on his cheek sting. It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters right now. Nothing, apart from Ed.

“You were just trying to protect the people you love.”

“It hurts,” Ed whispers, managing a faint smile. “I’m sorry— I… I know I probably w-won’t make it… through this. But— would you— for me—?”

He coughs and whimpers and Roy’s falling apart at seeing how broken and destroyed his boyfriend is. His strong, seemingly invincible boyfriend, slowly losing his battle. 

“Your blood— I need— I’m s-sorry, I need… to know.” Ed’s voice is getting weaker and his gaze more distant and Roy’s seen this before. He knows that Ed is dying. He knows that this— this is the end.

“Of course, my precious, my star, of course.” The words come out choked and barely legible and from his side, he hears Riza’s muffled sobs even as she sits strong and focused and keeps them safe by killing person after person with precisely aimed pulls of the trigger, just so Roy and Alphonse can have this moment with Ed— this last moment of peace. 

Roy cradles Ed’s body closer, hears the laboured breaths get shallower and farther between as he rests his head against where the bullet had gone through his body. He doesn’t hesitate to cry openly as he whispers out mindless comforting reassurances, that it’s okay and that they’ll be okay, even though they won’t, because how can he imagine life without his golden presence beside him. How can he ever dream of achieving anything more in his life without the constant support from his closest? Hell, how can he ever imagine waking up in a life where his brilliant, perfect Edward isn’t with him?

He doesn’t hear the hitch in Edward’s breath or Alphonse’s cry. He doesn’t hear Riza turning around and dropping her weapon. 

He doesn’t react to anything. 

Not until a sharp pain hits him in the stomach, right— right where Edward must have gotten shot.

Distantly, through the haze of pain, he manages to move his hand, covered in blood, enough to hold it up in front of his eyes. Brilliant, shimmering gold blinks back at him and—

“Soulmates,” Roy whispers, even as the pain roars to new levels. “I— Edward, please don’t die.  _ Edward _ , we’re so close. Please— please—”

He can feel, along with the pain, the effects of blood loss setting in as his body compensates for the grievous injuries caused to Ed’s. He forces his head up, sees Ed’s eyes flicker open to make eye contact with him. The last words he manages to speak before unconsciousness is bound to claim him comes to the forefront of his mind.

“Please, please please, hold on for me, my precious.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. (but hey, spoiler for the continuation that will never come: no, Ed doesn't die. Neither does Roy, Alphonse or Riza)


End file.
